


every time i didn't save you but wanted to (did you want me to?)

by makemelovely



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood, Character Death, Episode: s02e05 White Out, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 01:49:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19285630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makemelovely/pseuds/makemelovely
Summary: Adora couldn't do it, and then she did.//au where Scorpia doesn't stop the infected She-Ra, and Adora does the unthinkable.





	every time i didn't save you but wanted to (did you want me to?)

Red lightning cracks over her skin, and the snow is melting against her skin and everything is burning. Adora blinks to try and clear away the red in her vision, but it feels like she’s moving through water. Slow and distant.

 

She’s not mad. Not really. There’s a cold detachment that would usually send her into a panic, but it feels hard to grasp her emotions. It’s like she’s looking through a window except there’s a dark red curtain in the way.

 

She tried to squint, but she doesn’t feel in control. It’s like she’s moving in a fog, slowly and carefully, but it doesn’t feel like she’s making any progress.

 

She feels stuck, and helpless but the feelings keep sliding off her skin like water. She can’t get a solid grasp on anything, and there’s a burning that begins to grip her attention.

 

It’s heat, scorching and searing as it dances over her skin, crackling like lightning. She tries to focus on something besides the pain, brain caught between what’s happening on the outside of her body and the pain crackling on her skin.

 

She wants to stop and catch her breath, but she has the vague sensation that she’s still moving.

 

She thinks she hears Glimmer’s voice, but it’s distorted and far away. It’s like she’s hearing it on the other side of a glass wall, and Adora  _ wants  _ to focus on her, but the burning digs into her skin, pinpointing the weaknesses and slipping underneath to muscle and bone and blood.

 

Every part of her body burns, and it’s like her blood has been replaced with molten lava, and she’s not mad but she’s seeing red. A sheet, a river, a waterfall of red obscuring her sight, and it only enhances the way the burning lights her up in all the wrong ways.

 

“I know you’re still in there Adora!” Glimmer’s voice, vague and quiet, but Adora tries. She tries to grasp it, to leave behind the red that burns and see the pink and sparkles and the safety of Glimmer.

 

Adora  _ tries. _

 

She fails.

 

The snow melts against her burning skin, against the glow of She-Ra. Her hand aches, her blood boils, and she doesn’t know how to stop it. The pulse in her ear is like a drum, and energy floods her body but it doesn’t soothe the burning. It makes it worse.

 

It strengthens it.

 

The wind whips snow all around, spreads the cold liberally. Adora burns on the inside, and She-Ra glows on the outside.

 

Adora wonders what’s happening, wonders why the metal of her sword is the only thing she can really feel, and she wonders why it’s warm to the touch instead of the cold that she usually feels.

 

“Adora, wait!” Catra cries out, and Adora feels panic seize her throat.

 

Her heart is burning up, and it only beats faster as the red continues to block her view of  _ anything,  _ really.

 

Heat sizzles in her bones, and the red darkens into black.

 

Adora blinks, her vision clear. Her sword lays in the snow, red cracks in it. She’s concerned, but she’s even more concerned about the top part of her sword where red coats the metal there. Her heart stops.

 

One breath, two breaths.

 

The snow melts against her skin, and Adora swallows hesitantly before letting She-Ra vanish. She’s cold instantly, and Adora welcomes the break from burning heat. She breathes in nervously before dragging her eyes away from her bloody sword.

 

Pristine snow, unblemished and perfectly white.

 

Red snow, and Catra lying wide eyed and taking shuddering breaths.

 

“Oh, god, Catra!” Adora gasps, boots stepping through red snow and there’s so much of it.

 

She drops to her knees beside Catra, cradling her head and there are tears spilling down her cheeks and she feels so cold and her pants are red and Catra is  _ hurt.  _

 

And  _ Adora  _ is the one who hurt her. She thinks of the simulation, thinks of minutes earlier. Thinks of her red vision and she can’t help but wonder what happened. She can’t help but wonder what she did.

 

“You did it.” Catra breathes out, the words so quiet that Adora has to lean in to hear. She laughs, the sound vanishing into air. “You actually did it.” Her eyes are staring up at a point just beyond Adora, and she sees the moment they become glassy and lifeless, permanently fixed on something just out of reach.

 

“Catra?” Adora is panicking. She can feel it crawling up her spine like a bug, desperate and aching. “Catra!” She shouts, and Catra doesn’t move or speak or laugh and tell her it was all a dumb joke and everything is okay.

 

The world slows to a halt, and an endless cold blooms in the pit of Adora’s stomach. Her hands feel slick, and somewhere in the back of her mind she realizes it’s blood. Catra is stiff, and Adora keeps waiting for any flash of movement because she’s never seen Catra so lifeless. That’s it, though. Catra  _ is  _ lifeless. That movement, the energy, the  _ liveliness  _ that is Catra is gone because she is gone.

 

Catra is dead.

 

Adora killed her.

 

And now Adora is mourning her, sitting the blood covered snow beside her body with her sword that was used to deal the final blow sitting a few feet away.

 

Everything feels like it’s happening in slow motion.

 

She doesn’t know how long she sits by Catra’s body, but she looks up eventually to see that the other Horde soldiers had left. She thinks that Scorpia had to be forced to leave because she can’t picture the tall woman willingly leaving Catra behind whether she was dead or not.

 

Eventually Glimmer, Bow, and Sea Hawk get back. Her sword is still burning red, and Adora’s hands are still bloody.

 

“Oh, Adora.” Glimmer whispers, eyes fixed on Adora while Bow looks at Catra and Sea Hawk looks away.

 

“I killed her.” The words feel hollow, and she remembers the simulation where she was  _ supposed  _ to kill Catra and couldn’t do it. The words echo in her mind.

 

_ I knew you couldn’t do it. _

 

_ Oh, Catra,  _ Adora thinks.  _ I couldn’t do it, but somehow I did. _

 

“Glimmer,” Adora says, and her hands are shaking. When did her hands start shaking? “I killed Catra.” She whispers it, but the words send an ache through her whole body.

 

They used to sleep together, bodies turned inwards so they were sharing the same air, the same life almost. Their heartbeats in sync, their bodies sharing heat and mutual affection that they never talked about but felt like it was a vital organ.

 

Adora wants to turn back time, wants to love Catra with everything in her and show her that she was never second best. Not to Adora. Once upon a time Adora would have chosen Catra above everybody else.

 

She could have helped her. Instead she killed her.

 

“Adora we have to leave.” Glimmer tells her as gently as possible.

 

“I know.” Adora replies, but she stays frozen. She keeps looking at Catra, at the red spread across the once white snow.

 

There’s blood on her hands.

 

_ Catra’s  _ blood is on her hands, and Adora can’t help but feel that soul wrenching pain of losing her.

 

_ It was never supposed to be like this, Catra, you have to believe me.  _ Adora thinks, but it doesn’t really matter. Catra is dead and can’t hear her thoughts.

 

“Adora?” Bow speaks this time, a red object in his hands that he breaks easily. The sword returns to its normal magicalness, and relief sweeps through Adora’s body.

 

Adora swallows, feels the snow stick against her skin. “I know.” She murmurs, slowly getting to her feet. She stares down at Catra’s body, her legs tingling. They had gone numb from sitting still for so long. “We should take her back.” Back to Bright Moon, she means. Adora looks up, meeting Bow’s eyes. “We  _ have  _ to take her back.” She stresses, something crumbling apart in her chest.

 

Bow nods, glancing at Glimmer and tilting his head. Glimmer nods, slowly gathering Catra in her arms. She teleports away, and Adora looks and looks at the red crime scene that’s missing a body.

 

Bow comes towards her, and he gathers her in his arms like she’s fragile and breakable. He leads her gingerly away, and Adora keeps thinking about the red snow and Catra and how she couldn't do it but she did.

 

_ It was never supposed to be like this.  _ She thinks, her sword strapped to her back.

 

She can feel the metal strapped against her back through the layers she’s wearing, and Adora has never felt so cold.

 

* * *

 

They get home.

 

They got home hours ago, and Adora is still in her room. The lights are off and she’s sitting on her bed, sword in her hands as she cleans it. The red is long gone, but every glint flashes her back to the sword laying in the snow, bloody and impossibly terrible.

 

There's an exhaustion clinging to her, something bone weary that she can't shrug off. Like a cloak or a cape, hanging tightly to her body like it wants to be comforting, but her feet keep getting tangled and she keeps stumbling.

 

She’s not really a hero is she? She keeps stumbling and faltering and murdering.

 

A balancing act without a net, and Adora has fallen so far. Her body aches like she tried to walk on a tightrope and she lost her balance, body tipping and succumbing to gravity. Falling down, down, down to the floor where every bone in her body is jarred out of place and her teeth are buzzing.

 

A safety net. An insurance policy. A way to stay safe in the face of danger.

 

It doesn't matter, though. The net can break. Adora thought she was safe, thought she was herself and she wouldn't not be herself again. She thought her mind would always be hers.

 

Of all the things to be wrong about.

 

Eventually she puts her sword aside and lies down, body turned inwards. She stares blankly ahead, half picturing and half remembering Catra lying beside her, grinning wryly and just a little affectionately.

 

A bed fit for one, a body wishing for the familiar comfort of another one, and the cold spot where somebody could’ve been once.

 

* * *

 

She doesn't sleep. She thinks about Catra, and how they used to chase each other when they were children. Life was just one long game of tag.

 

An endless life of childhood whimsy, games and the unbreakable concept of friendship and love that plagues them years later.

 

Adora falls asleep, and her nightmares soften into shadows and the fleeting touch of her ghosts. She walks through the Whispering Woods, shadows lurking and lights glowing, pinks and blues and purples mingling with the dark shadows and incriminating red bleeding through the darkness like a reminder.

 

She rounds a sharp bend in the path, and Catra grins at her, feral but contained. Adora can practically see the bitter rage burning beneath her skin, and Adora deserves it. She does.

 

“Catra,” Adora breathes, lets the sadness and the joy fill up in her lungs. Tears spring up in her eyes, and there’s a lightness running through her veins which combats the heaviness of her skin. “Oh, Catra.” She propels herself towards Catra who is hanging upside down from a thick branch, grinning slyly at Adora.

 

“Hey, Adora.” Her smile spreads languorously across her face, but her eyes are cracked, a bubbling pool of emotion that isn't going to be quiet for long. “Long time no see.”

 

Adora flinches, confusion clear in the way she furrows her eyebrows. Regardless, she takes another step forward, hands outstretched as if to catch Catra if she fell.

 

The ghost of a voice, laughter ringing faintly.  _ “Adora catch me! Bet you can't, slowpoke! C'mon, catch me!”  _

 

“I saw you, like, yesterday.” Adora doesn't think about the red snow and her red blade and the way Catra had been so still. She doesn't think about it at all.

 

Catra twists suddenly, forcing herself upwards in a move that definitely went against the laws of gravity or something. Her lips curve downwards as she speaks to Adora, now sitting upright on the branch, legs dangling in a way that Adora can't help but think of as cute and endearing. “Time passes differently when you're dead, Adora.” Catra says bluntly, and something cracks inside of Adora’s chest. Her eyes burn, but Catra keeps talking. “I mean, I knew you were dumb, Adora, but I didn't know you were  _ that  _ dumb.”

 

“Catra,” Adora starts, her voice cracking. “I’m  _ sorry.”  _ She means it. She thinks she’s never meant anything more.

 

Catra leaps down from the branch, feet pushing down before she springs back into a standing position. Catra’s voice is cold as she stalks towards Adora. “Sorry doesn't bring me back to life, Adora. Sorry doesn't make my heart beat again or heal my wounds.” Catra presses a hand to her chest forcefully, fingers laying flat and spread out as her palm pushes against the center of her chest. “Sorry doesn't stop you from pushing your sword into my heart.” She snaps, eyes burning with an impassioned fire as she moves closer to Adora.

 

“I know. Catra, I know.” She sobs, reaching for the girl who had been her entire world once. Her fingers close around the fabric of her shirt, and she pulls Catra closer. “I’m sorry.” She cries earnestly. “If I could do it over it would all be different.” She whimpers.

 

Catra pulls away, face smooth like stone. “You can’t do it over, Adora. You  _ killed  _ me. That’s more than just an accident. You have to learn to live with the consequences of your actions. I know it’s such a foreign experience for you, Princess,” she sneers. “But you have to own up to it.”

 

“I know.” Adora insists.

 

“It’s your fault, Adora. Do you realize that? I’m dead because of  _ you.”  _ Catra hisses, slowly backing into the shadows. Her eyes glow in the darkness, and it’s all Adora can see of her. “It’s your fault.”

 

The words settle over Adora’s skin with a weight. They prickle and burrow and burn.

 

Adora wakes up, chest heaving, throat constricting, and eyes burning.

 

_ It’s your fault. It’s your fault. It’s your fault. _

 

_ And it is,  _ Adora thinks.

 

* * *

 

They don’t really have a funeral for her. They bury her, and Adora sits My her grave, choking on the thick silence like it’s penance. The sky grows dark and the night gets cold. Adora doesn’t really feel it. All she can feel is the dirt and the grass and the mistakes pressing against her back.

 

Adora traces over Catra’s name, fingers dipping over the C and skating across the A. She darts through the T and speeds through the R before coming to a rest on the final A.

 

She misses her.

 

Desperately. Terribly. It’s a bone deep ache, almost like a chasm has opened up and swallowed her whole.

 

She stays until the morning, and she leaves once the sun has risen and banished the shadows from the surrounding area.

 

Adora doesn’t want the shadows touching Catra’s final resting spot. One can’t be sure of where the shadows are reporting to.

 

* * *

 

Adora returns to battle four months after Catra died. After Adora killed her.

 

It’s messy. It’s raining and people are slipping in the mud it creates. Mermista looks right at home and Perfuma is making the best of it. Adora is half blinded by rain and hair falling into her eyes. She-Ra would be the better fighter, and she can feel the pulse in her bones at the sword’s base need for She-Ra, but something stops her every time she thinks that maybe it’d be better to be She-Ra.

 

Well, not something. The memory of the last time she had been She-Ra. The day Catra died. The day she had been killed.

 

It’s always at the back of her brain, and if she’s being honest it’s at the forefront too. The guilt at what she had done is always consuming her. It’s always swallowing her whole, but she deserves it.

 

She’s a murderer, and a dumbass judging by the looks Bow and Glimmer and everybody really are giving her.

 

“What?” She asks as the Horde retreats.

 

“Who are you looking for?” Bow asks. Adora’s head tilts, eyes drifting for a split second to a space between two rocks where somebody could be hiding and waiting to get the jump on them.

 

Adora forces a laugh. “What? Nobody, duh.” She tells him, quickly peeking at the shadowy woods to make sure there’s nobody there smirking obnoxiously.

 

Bow just keeps looking at her, and panic claws at Adora’s throat suddenly. He gently takes her arm and leads her away for everybody else. “Adora, c’mon. You can talk to me.”

 

Adora sighs. “Okay, Bow. I,” She swallows roughly. “I keep waiting for Catra to come out.” She admits.

 

Bow’s eyes widen. “Catra? But she’s-“

 

“Dead?” Adora lifts an eyebrow. “Yeah, I know.” She runs her hands through her hair. “I just miss her, I guess.”

 

“Miss her?” He asks.

 

“Well, yeah. I loved her.” She confesses, heart beating rapidly in her chest.

 

Bow nods in understanding. “Yeah I get it. You were best friends for years.”

 

“No.” She blinks. “Well, yeah, but no. It was more than that. I  _ loved  _ her. Still do, I think.” Understanding unfurls on Bow’s face, and Adora nods sadly. “Yeah she was my best friend, but she was also my whole world at one point. Like, she was all I really had and the same goes for her. We were orphans and we loved each other more than anything.” She pauses, remembers the way Catra looked at her as she cut through the only thing keeping Adora from falling into the void beneath.

 

_ “I wonder what I could’ve been if I’d gotten rid of you sooner.” _

 

The bitter anger festering until it reached a boiling point. “Almost anything.” She amends softly.

 

Bow hugs her tightly, and Adora allows herself to feel the love in it.

 

* * *

 

“I’m sorry I killed you.” Adora says to Catra’s grave, slowly sitting down. “I know I wasn’t fully in control of myself, but I dunno. I feel like I could’ve done more.”

 

Adora sets some flowers done, using her hand to sweep some dirt off the top of the headstone. “I can’t go back and change it, but if I could I would save you and then tell you I loved you. I still do, and I guess I’m learning how to deal with it properly.”

 

There’s a long moment of silence. Adora is clearly contemplating what to say. “I miss you. Every day. I still look for you in battles, but you’re never there. Obviously. I see you less now, but I’m not going to forget you. I promise you that. I know you thought I abandoned you when I left the Horde, but I didn’t mean to. I won’t abandon you now either.”

 

Adora stands up, staring down at Catra’s grave. She remembers when they were young and played tag, racing through rooms and halls like their lives depended on it. She can almost hear Catra’s voice now.

 

_ You promise? _

 

“I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! if you'd like to follow me on tumblr i'm over there @makemelovely


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